She grips his hand fiercely. "Steve Rogers." She knows that name. Where does she know that name from?

"I am. Dejah Thoris." It's getting hard to breathe, but she ignores the pain and tries to find a smile. "The carcass. Get us away. From the carcass."

She fumbles at a fold in her skirts, her hand closing around a leather-wrapped notebook tied shut with a length of cord. "I saw a tree house. Not far. From here."